Don't Stand So Close To Me
by angel-death-dealer
Summary: He'd half considered ringing Grace or another woman to ask her for help, until he realised that he was a grown adult, and that he was more mature than that. Honestly! He could have a shower with Lisbon and trust himself. Right? MAJOR Jisbon.


**Don't Stand So Close To Me**

"Whoa, careful there."

"I _can_ do this myself, you know."

"If you could, then I wouldn't be here."

"If you weren't here, I'd be doing this myself."

"Then you'd fall, you'd hurt yourself and you'd do even more damage."

"I haven't done _any_ damage! _You_ did!"

"Which is why I'm here helping you out, and if you recall, I said if there was any way I could help you, to let me know, and that is when _you_ said-"

"Yes, Jane, I know what I said."

"-So really, you bought this on yourself by asking."

"I didn't count on you actually _listening_ to me for once."

"Wow, you really need this, don't you?"

"Shut up, Jane."

"It'll be good for you, relaxing, stress-relieving..."

It was times like that that Lisbon was especially glad that she never opted to bring in a lodger to take up the spare room. Had she done so, they may have been around to have heard this conversation, complete with all the bangs and crashes that came from the bathroom, and they would have come to the same conclusion that anyone would have: that Patrick Jane and Teresa Lisbon were getting down to the dirty stuff in the bathroom. However, they were doing no such thing.

The day before, Jane had once again proved that he was incapable of listening to a reasonable order. She'd told him to stay in the car while they apprehended their suspected criminal, a drug dealer who was heavily armed and, ten seconds after they burst in his back door, was holding Lisbon and Rigsby at gunpoint. Of course, Jane had heard them relay their duress to Cho and himself in the car, and when Cho had gone in, he had followed...and aggravated the situation. By attempting to talk to the dealer, he'd almost gotten Lisbon killed. Instead, he'd just hit her on the head with his gun, knocking her out, and as she fell she'd knocked her arm. It hadn't dislocated, but it had sprained her shoulder.

So, to apologize, he'd turned up to take care of her. She'd resisted at every turn, but the doctors at the emergency room had insisted that she wasn't allowed to be alone because of her concussion. She'd eventually grown tired, already late from waiting at the hospital so long, so when Jane turned up and took over the kitchen work for one night and walked her dog for her, she wasn't fighting him at that stage. She was exhausted, so she ended up falling asleep on the couch. She didn't remember getting to her bed, but she definitely remembered Jane whispering to her on several occasions, shaking her awake every two hours as the doctors had instructed. She definitely woke up in her own bed, a complete mystery was how she got there. She had a huge headache, which Jane had already left her two aspirin and a glass of water beside her bed for, and every time she attempted to stand up, she felt dizzy.

That was how Jane had found her, trying to stand up. She was covered in smears of grime from where she had hit the ground when she fell, and all she wanted to do was be clean, so when Jane had offered to help, the first thing that had slipped sarcastically out her mouth was that she wanted a shower. Needless to say, he'd not been expecting anything more than a grumbled complaint when he asked her, not an invite to get her in the shower. He'd stood there, staring at her for so long that she'd wondered for a moment whether she'd have to start CPR.

So now he was walking into the bathroom with her, helping her towards the shower. This was, without a doubt, the most awkward thing they would ever have to do. He was starting to wonder how he'd let himself get talked into this. In fact, what had happened between this moment and her not-so-seriously telling him that she wanted a shower? He was going to be standing inside the shower cubicle with her, making sure that she didn't pass out or collapse, and helping because she'd sprained her shoulder. After her suggestion, they'd tried to come up with any other possible way for her to take a shower, but seeing as she still couldn't stand up unaided for longer than a few minutes, it was impossible for her to even consider doing this on her own.

He'd half considered ringing Grace or another woman to ask her for help, until he realised that he was a grown adult, and that he was more mature than that – honestly! He could have a shower with Lisbon and trust himself.

Right?

To cure the awkwardness, Lisbon had suggested that she shower in her bathing suit, and he would keep his underwear on. Great idea, right? That meant she was going to be standing that close to him in a bikini, rather than completely naked. But still, he felt like his heart was beating ten to the dozen just at the thought of it. She'd put her bikini on beneath her bathrobe and he was already just wearing his boxers. He let her stand by herself as he leaned into the shower cubicle and turned the water on. He tested the water with his hands, and it almost scalded him, so he turned the cold a little higher and tested it until it felt bearable.

"Ok," he announced, still facing the running water. "Water's good."

When he turned back around to face her, the first thing that he noticed was the absence of the towelling robe that had covered her. In fact, all that covered her now was thin and sparse parts of material that covered her private areas. The fabric was an emerald green, accenting her eyes and giving them a beautiful shine, and it showed off her subtle cleavage and toned stomach...those slim legs...and those hips? He didn't trust himself to think about them. Yes, she definitely worked out.

"This is weird," she laughed, clearly feeling as uncomfortable as he was.

He nodded, holding his arm towards the shower. "After you."

She gave him a smile and walked past him to step into the shower. As she did, he looked away out of politeness but found himself staring at her reflection in the mirror instead. It wasn't just any part of her reflection either...it was her-

"Jane," she muttered simply.

He turned at her tiny voice and saw her steadying herself on the slippery wall already. He rushed into the cubicle, using his arms to steady her more safely as she leant her weight on his forearms. "You okay?" he asked her quietly, and she could only just hear him over the rushing water.

She nodded, her eyes closed. "I'm fine," she insisted.

He frowned as she tightened her hands on his forearms to steady herself. "Lisbon, maybe you should wait a while..."

She opened her eyes. "Jane, I _need _a shower," she told him. "You said you'd help me."

"Ok," he surrendered.

And so they went about their shower.

It was pretty hard, seeing as the shower was too small for the two of them to be moving around in. They kept brushing up against each other in places where they probably shouldn't have done, given the situation. Being under the stream of water certainly didn't help, and although they were both equally effected by the accidental grazing of a hand against the others thigh, neither of them made any move to show it. Among the straying of hands, Jane had to keep steadying Lisbon when she faltered and prevent her from falling into the wall which only would have damaged her shoulder more. Eventually, she gave a frustrated sigh, having only one arm to try and wash her hair with.

"This is _ridiculous_!" she groaned through gritted teeth. "I can't even wash my own hair!"

Jane smiled at him, and, braving himself he stepped closer so that he was standing directly behind her. "Sit down," he instructed.

She looked at him strangely, unsure that she had heard him right. "Excuse me?"

"Sit down," he repeated, awkwardly sitting down on the floor of the shower himself.

He steadied her as she wordlessly stumbled her way down, and after some moving around to get comfortable they both managed to sit somewhat comfortably with Lisbon's back pressed against his chest. The water above them hit her at just the right angle for Jane to wash the shampoo from her hair without it spraying in either of their faces. Of course, to fit sitting down in the small space they both had to draw their knees up and Lisbon kept her arms over his legs so that she was staying in one position.

Jane's arms moved up from where they had been steadying her shoulders to start pressings his fingertips gently into her scalp, massaging the remains of shampoo from her hair. She let out a sigh against her will when his hands skimmed over her skin so firmly, but with a softness that she'd never experienced from anything else. There was something about being in the shower with Jane while he washed her hair for her, that awaked a desire in her that she hadn't felt for a long time – and one she'd certainly never felt around him. It was a dangerous desire, one that she couldn't afford to act on. If her determination wouldn't stop her, her physical condition definitely would. It was true, Jane was definitely an attractive man – most of the women they saw throughout the day would attest to that – but it wasn't like there were feelings that went with that attraction, right?

Jane couldn't have feelings for her, because even though his wife was no longer here, he still loved her. On the rare occasions that he spoke about his wife his eyes would glaze over, and he would speak with a softness that one would expect from a newlywed. One look at those shining eyes and you could tell how pleased he had been to hear her say 'I do', and to see her lying beside him when he awoke in the morning. You could see how much he valued, and missed, the simple pleasures of watching her move around the kitchen, listening to her sing along to the radio, even arguing with her. He still wore his wedding ring, too. He'd made no move to take it from his finger, so she assumed that it would live there until the day, hopefully many years from now, in which he joined his wife and child.

There was a time when Lisbon wanted to be that woman for him. She'd gone through a phase of wanting to help him finally move on from his wife's passing. She wanted to show him that he could hear singing in the kitchen again, he could make meals for two, he could share a bed without feeling guilty. And yes, during that phase she could have seen herself putting a similar ring back on his finger, and yes, she could have seen herself being thoroughly exhausted by several blonde-haired blue eyed boys looking just like their father. But it was just a phase, and she forced herself to grow out of it...no matter how much this compromising position was trying to resurface it.

She felt Jane's hands release her hair so that he could reach for the hair conditioner. She didn't move, and she certainly didn't speak, in fear of making the moment awkward when the uncomfortable silence of it had already been lifted and forgotten. Now, she was more content to let him do anything that relaxing whilst she sat there. It was only a matter of seconds before she felt his fingers weaving into her locks again and she let out another involuntary sick, which she hoped wasn't audible over the sound of the shower. He did hear it though, and he was trying very hard to distract himself from the fact that he had Lisbon making satisfied little noises in his lap. He didn't want to embarrass himself with her.

Eventually, his body seemed to understand that nothing was going to happen, and concentrating on washing the conditioner from her hair became more enjoyable for him. She knew that he was just doing it to be thorough, but she didn't think to tell him that the conditioner would have been completely gone at least five minutes ago. His hands left her scalp and rested on her shoulders again after some time. "I think you're good," he told her with a smile. He went to start moving to stand up, but she didn't co-operate. "Lisbon, you feeling ok?" he asked.

She nodded. "Yeah."

He smiled to himself. "You aren't seriously comfortable like this, are you?" he asked, indicating to how they were squashed in the shower together.

"I spent most of the night getting comfortable, only to be woken up two hours later and have to get comfortable all over again," she reminded him. "_This _is comfortable."

He laughed a little, and gave up trying to move. It was early, and they still had plenty of time before they were due at the CBI office, even though he would insist the whole way that Lisbon was in no shape to work today. But until then, a bit of relaxation before what was no doubt going to be a hectic day was good for them, so he shifted back into his position behind her. Instead of putting his arms on her shoulders, he wrapped them around her stomach, holding her against him. Instantly, he breathed in the aroma of the shampoo that he had just rinsed form her hair. It smelt like mint, and in a strange way that suited her.

Lisbon leaned forwards briefly, so that the jet spray hit her face and she wiped her hands over it, removing the excess water before placing her arms over Jane's, holding his embrace steady on her stomach. She surprised him when she leaned her head on his shoulder, but he said nothing. "I know you hate feeling weak like this," he said quietly, barely audible over the water but she head it just above her ear.

"Yeah," she grumbled into the side of his neck, the vibrations of her breath against his skin sent shivers down his spine, which somehow he managed to control.

They were silent again, nothing but the sound of water against ceramics surrounding them. He felt her breathing steady against his neck and he nudged her good shoulder. "You can't go back to sleep," he told her. "Not if you want to work today."

"I'm awake," she said distractedly, rolling her head so that he could see that her eyes were open.

"You sure?" he checked. "You're making a habit of falling asleep in my arms."

She blushed at his comment, suddenly realising how she had made it to her bed the previous evening. "You complaining?" she asked weakly, trying to take the focus off of her.

He shook his head. "Definitely not. But Hightower wants to see you as soon as you're able to walk straight," he told her. She looked confused. "You were sleeping, I answered your phone."

She groaned. "Jane!"

"You could always...not go," he tempted her.

"Miss out on closing this case just for a few hours sleep?" she realised. "No chance."

"You're not the only one who's tired," he reminded her. "_Someone _had to be awake to keep you out of a coma all night."

She sighed, choosing not to answer. He'd been good to her last night, even if it had been because he felt guilty for her being in that condition in the first place. "I _have _to go," she said quietly.

"_Don't_," he said softly, even though it was more of a plea than a simple request. "We'll stay."

It was the way he said '_we_', with a strange tone in his voice, that actually made her smile at the thought of lying this way all day. Sure, the water would get cold, but there were other places in the house they could relax all day, but she knew that she couldn't. He just wanted to make sure that she was ok, and Lisbon knew that she'd only end up ruining things and embarrassing herself by attempting to kiss him. They had boundaries, and they needed to stick to them.

But his arms around her stomach and his chest against her back felt _really_ good.

"We'll go see Hightower," she decided.

"Lisbon..." he groaned.

"_Then _we'll come home," she said.

He was quiet for a moment. "_We_," he repeated.

She shrugged with her good shoulder. "Someone's got to stop me from dropping into a coma, right?" she excused.

He wasn't convinced, and she knew that from the way she felt his arms tighten around her stomach for a moment before he sighed. "I can live with that," he accepted.

He managed to stand up, helping her to her feet at the same time. He turned the water off, instantly missing the warm water running over him, and they got out of the shower. He reached for a towel, white and fluffy, warm from being over the radiator, and he wrapped it around her tightly, bundling her up in its softness. She smiled tiredly, and Jane wrapped a second towel around his waist.

She smiled at him, watching as he moved over to her mirror, running his fingers through his curls before he turned back to see her. "See something you like?" he wiggled his eyebrows at her.

She just continued to watch, seeing the water dripping down his bare chest.

"Lisbon?" he asked, stepping closer to her again.

She nodded. "She must have been a lucky woman," she whispered. He looked confused for a moment. "Your wife."

He stared at her for the longest time, and she feared for a moment that she had insulted him. Was he looking at her, and seeing his wife? Perhaps that would be worse than insulting him, to have him see her as somebody else, somebody he had cared for with a much more powerful strength and adoration. And then he sighed, stepping to close the gap between them. He shocked her by putting a hand on her cheek, looking deep into her eyes as her heart began pounding.

"I wasn't the perfect husband," he admitted. "But I like to think that I made her happy."

With that, he pressed his lips to her forehead, and began to guide her back towards her bedroom so that she could change. When they got to her room and he went to leave her alone, though, she took hold of his wrist. Unfortunately she used the wrong arm and the movement aggravated her shoulder. Pain shot up her arm and bought back the nausea, so Jane guided her to the bed, still wrapped in her towel, and carefully sat her down, kneeling before her.

"Feeling faint?" he asked her.

She nodded, not helping the nausea so she stopped quickly.

"Lean forwards," he instructed.

She did so, ending up with her head against his shoulders. His hands stayed on her sides, feeling her ribs expand as she took deep breaths until her dizziness faded. Then she lifted her head, keeping her hand wrapped around his wrist when he removed it.

"She _was _happy," she whispered.

Jane frowned at her. "Lisbon, this is too much nausea, perhaps we should take you back to the hospital-"

"No, you need to listen to me," she told him.

"Ok," he nodded.

"You only want to take care of people," she told him. "You go out of your way, you risk broken noses and bruises to make sure that the people we fight for get results that can help them move on with their lives. You make them feel safe. You've returned people's children to them when they didn't think they were going to see them ever again. You take care of people. You stay up through the night to wake them up regularly when they have a concussion. You go with them in the ambulance, and you make sure that they stay at the hospital even when they insist on going home."

He smiled a little. "_Someone _has to," he whispered.

"You helped me wash my hair," she pointed out. "And when I get to the office in the morning there's a coffee on my desk, and I _know _it's you who makes it. You bring me dinner at my desk when I'm working late and I've skipped lunch. You do these silly things on days where I'm sure I won't smile and then somehow you've got me laughing. You notice when I've had my hair done. You come to my apartment and take care of me when I'm hurt, and you don't just leave as soon as I insist that I'm fine. You fix me dinner, you carry me to bed..." she stopped, looking down at where her hand was on his wrist. She removed it, raising it up and settling it on his cheek instead, forcing them both to make eye contact.

"She was _happy_, Patrick," she told him with a gentle smile. "If you do all that for me, I can't even imagine what you did for you wife. She _had _to be happy."

He put his hand over hers, holding it in place on his cheek. He closed his eyes, taking in a long breath, and when he opened them again they were covered in a watery shine. "Thank you," he whispered in a thick voice. "It means the world to me that you would think that."

It was her time to lean forward and press her lips against his skin, choosing his other cheek, rather than the forehead like he had done with her. "_You _were happy too," she whispered.

"I was," he choked out. "She made me happy..._so _happy...and I treated her like a queen as best I could because she _deserved _it. She deserved anything I could give her to make her smile. And _you_..." she drew her eyes to his at this. "You deserve to be treated like that as well."

"This isn't about me," she whispered.

"It wasn't," he shook his head. "But it should have been."

"Patrick-"

"You deserve everything she had," he told her. "You deserve flowers, and fancy restaurants, and dancing, and so much laughter. You deserve to be held, to be adored, worshiped, _loved_...and when I was so focused on not being able to show it to her anymore, I wasn't seeing how I could be moving on and doing those things for someone else...someone like you...you in particular, actually," he admitted softly. She didn't say anything, so he sighed. "I'm sorry, I shouldn't have-"

"_No_," she protested, when he went to move. She put her hand on the back of his neck, keeping him close so that there foreheads rested together. "No, stay."

"I should give you some privacy," he told her. "There's no need for you to catch a cold as well."

It was then that she realised she was still wearing her towel and her damp bathing suit and realised that she was shivering slightly. "Oh," she mumbled.

"I'll go make you some breakfast," he offered.

She shook her head when he pulled back. "You don't have to do that."

"Teresa," he whispered, kissing her cheek. "I _want _to do this for you. Humour me?"

She smiled gently. "Ok."

"Don't go anywhere," he told her. "If you get nauseous and fall you could damage your shoulder even more."

And with that he left the bedroom, and Lisbon remained on the bed. When he returned with a light breakfast of toast and her usual coffee, not wanting to stir her nausea too much (whether or not she managed to keep the meal down was going to determine whether or not he took her back to the hospital, but he wasn't going to tell her that), she was still sat in the same position, her hand on her cheek, touching the spot where his lips had been earlier.

**End**


End file.
